


Hypnotic (taking over me)

by taetaetiger (sexyvanillatiger)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Blindfolds, Canon Compliant, Crying, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyvanillatiger/pseuds/taetaetiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yixing endures Jongin's surprise on a long flight and is rewarded when they get back to the dorms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypnotic (taking over me)

Jongin considered having him wear it on a day when they had dance practice. It was an appealing idea at first, watching him try to keep his cool in front of the other members, but in the end, he decided that it would be too much. Yixing wouldn't be able to enjoy it, which meant Jongin wouldn't be able to enjoy it, and it would make an already difficult day that much more so. The last thing he wants to do is take at least the pleasure of dancing away from dance practice. So he chooses the day that they fly out of Los Angeles.

The difficult part is packing it discreetly in his carryon. Part of his hardship is making sure the other members don't see it, which culminates in him guarding his backpack fiercely from the time they start packing up their things to the point where they're sitting at the gate, waiting to board. The other part is getting it through security. They get boarding passes with precheck notices in the corner. Jongin still glances warily at the man working the security line, waiting for some sort of derisive look, an accusation, as though the man will see it on his screen and know whom it belongs to.

He doesn't. He runs their bags through the line and Jongin is more flustered by Baekhyun asking loudly why he's being so reserved. It's easy to say that he's tired from their stay in the States. It's harder to shake Baekhyun away from hanging off of the straps of his bag, which involves enlisting the help of Minseok, who pulls him into a headlock and walks him that way until their gate is in sight.

Yixing sits next to him while they wait, and Jongin tells him to sit next to him on the plane. He whispers that he has a surprise for Yixing once they get up in the air. Yixing smiles and nods, asking Jongin to play some music for them. He does, for Yixing. He can't really focus on it. All he can think about is how Yixing will look. Flushed. A little bit uncomfortable, but in the best sort of way. Pleased at first, but as the hours roll slowly on, more and more rattled. Jongin glances over at Yixing, who is staring out the windows at the tarmac horizon, and he bites his lip. His stomach curls with anticipation. He can't wait.

When they begin boarding, Yixing starts asking around to see who has been assigned the seat next to Jongin and sets to trading their passes. When he does, he falls back in line until he's at Jongin's side, waving the pass triumphantly. "Window seat," he says with a broad smile. Jongin smiles back, linking their fingers together for a celebratory squeeze.

As soon as they're settled, Yixing asks about the surprise. Jongin smiles softly and shrugs, telling him that they haven't even taken off yet. He tells him that they have a twelve and a half hour flight ahead of them; there's no need for Yixing to get hasty when it hasn't even started yet. Yixing's eyes widen slightly, and Jongin wonders if he might be realizing what the surprise is. Still, he doesn't say anything else, just sinking back into his seat, so Jongin doesn't worry.

The plane boards slowly, or maybe plane boarding is always a slow process, but it feels especially slow right now, while Jongin is so eager to get moving. From the corner of his eye, he can see Yixing fidgeting as well. His usually far-off gaze is sharp, following the movements of passengers as they shuffle through the aisle, stowing their bags and finding their seats. His restlessness is so sweet that Jongin almost forgets his own impatience.

Even after the door is closed and the plane is pulling away from the gate, Yixing still has waiting to go. Their takeoff is delayed briefly by nearby weather, and Yixing descends further into his seat miserably. He bounces his leg, taps his fingers, stares out the window begging silently and desperately to whoever will listen that they take off _now_. He doesn't know what Jongin's surprise is, not specifically, but he thinks knows what _kind_ of surprise it is, and he's already a little bit hard in his jeans with anticipation.

After they're finally cleared for takeoff, Yixing turns and looks at Jongin expectantly. Jongin doesn't look back at him, but there's a tightness to his lips that suggests he's holding back a smile. Yixing nudges him with his elbow, and Jongin nudges him back playfully. He dips his head forward, whining his pleas to Jongin, who silently points up at the lighted seatbelt sign. Yixing lets out a puff of breath and falls back into his seat again. Jongin just laughs at him.

"Patience, _hyung_."

Yixing slides a glare his way, but it dies quickly. Jongin laces their fingers together, running his thumb over the grooves and protrusions of his knuckles. California disappears behind them, fading into the endless blue of the Pacific. When the seatbelt sign goes off and a flight attendant, in both English and Korean, informs them that they are free to move about the cabin but are advised to leave their seatbelt on while seated, Yixing looks to Jongin expectantly.

"Do you want your surprise now or later?" Yixing opens his mouth to say now, but Jongin continues. "Because it's going to be a very long flight if you get it now. Maybe you should try to get some sleep first."

Yixing stares in disbelief, his mouth still hanging open, but the way Jongin says it isn't teasing. It isn't coy or flirtatious like he's been up to now; it's his _command_ voice, and while he hasn't technically given Yixing a command, it means that the scene has started. Jongin meets Yixing's gaze, raising his eyebrows as though asking if Yixing is ready, and Yixing licks his lips before nodding and sitting back. If Jongin thinks that he should sleep now, he'll try.

But it's hard. All he can think about is the surprise. There are many things that could make a twelve and a half hour flight feel even longer, but which one does Jongin want to see him endure? He rests his head against the window, staring down at the ocean below, but sleep does not come. Jongin's voice rumbles in his head, low and patient. Somewhere beneath the patience and tenderness, carnal. Yixing tries to close his eyes, but they tremble, aching to open. Despite his efforts to be subtle, Jongin seems to notice his disquiet. He leans over.

"You can have it now, if you want. But if you do, I don't want you touching yourself until I give you permission. That won't be before we're back home."

Yixing considers it. The longing alone has him hard enough to notice the weight of his jeans around him. If Jongin's surprise is as good as the anticipation, then the next eleven hours will certainly be an advanced practice in good behavior. Still, the waiting could be the hardest part. He looks to Jongin for guidance. Jongin knows what the surprise is, but more importantly, Jongin knows Yixing. Top to bottom, inside and out. He'll know what's best.

Jongin regards Yixing for a moment before pulling out his headphones and handing one over. Yixing takes it, settling back in his best imitation of relaxation. He still hasn't stopped fidgeting. That's fine. Jongin understands. Suspense thrums under his skin just as heavily as it does beneath Yixing's, if not more. Yixing is yearning for an unknown treat, but Jongin knows what he's begging for. He lets Yixing pick the playlist, and he picks the song, and Jongin promises himself that he'll let Yixing have it when they've gone through the playlist once. That gives them almost an hour and a half. Yixing will still be wearing it for over nine hours, but he'll be fine. He's sensitive, not delicate.

Yixing rests his head on Jongin's shoulder when he relaxes this time, reclining towards the heat of Jongin's body. The music isn't enough of a distraction at first, only operating as a faint hum in the background of his thoughts. Slowly, though, he becomes more aware of it, his mouth tracing the syllables he recognizes. Some Korean, some English. He can't sing all of the songs, but the ones he does know, he murmurs along to them. Jongin keeps a beat on Yixing's palm, tapping his fingers right along the center. Together, they live for a moment in the music.

Jongin does know best. Yixing settles in with that, warmed from the inside. He only realizes how quickly time is passing just over an hour later, Jongin's distraction effective. They play hand games, tutting together clumsily to Jongin's music. Yixing realizes that he's been having fun despite the knot of want still curled in his stomach. He asks about the surprise, but Jongin tells him to wait until the playlist is over.

Yixing does, even though his mind drifts back to the place where the music is just background noise. His thoughts are so loud that he doesn't even know what to do with himself when the last song ends, the screen of the player sliding back to the playlist and silence filtering through their earbuds. Jongin pulls his backpack from where it's stowed beneath the seat in front of him, and he hands it off to Yixing.

"Go to the bathroom and look in the very bottom of the big pocket. You'll know what to do when you see it." Yixing nods, and Jongin wants to kiss him. He doesn't, he just pulls his knees to the side to let Yixing pass him, turning into the aisle and making the long walk to the back of the plane.

The bathroom is occupied when Yixing gets there, so he stands, making smalltalk with the flight attendant sitting in the back. She asks him about his stay in the U.S., and he tries to string together coherent sentences. It's hard to focus, though, now that he's so close. He glances up towards the front of the plane, but he can't see Jongin from here. The toilet flushes on the other side of the door and a mother and her young daughter finally exit the restroom. Yixing hurries in. He locks the door and sets the backpack up on the counter beside the sink, unzipping it and peering down into its depths. There isn't much inside, but Yixing still has to tilt the bag towards the light to see what he's looking at.

It's a plug. Gleaming metallic in the light, distinctly bullet-shaped, and only a few inches in length. Yixing closes his eyes as a shudder works through him. Jongin is going to have him wear this for the rest of the flight. He opens his eyes and begins rummaging through the backpack, finding a travel-sized bottle of lubricant beneath the plug, and he pulls it out. Checking the door again just to make sure he really locked it, he unfastens his jeans and pulls them just down enough to give himself access.

Reaching back and working one slick finger into himself is old hat. Yixing works quickly and clinically, fucking back on it only a few times before he has it pressed in down to the knuckle. He bites his lip to keep silent, eyes clasped shut, and he starts to work the second finger in alongside the first. He's panting, but hopefully not loud enough for anybody standing outside to hear him. It feels like ages before he can get three fingers in, and all the while, he's thinking about Jongin, sitting in his seat towards the front of the plane, knowing what Yixing is doing in here. He absently considers touching his cock, now at full attention, but earlier Jongin said he didn't want him to. So he doesn't.

After a few minutes, three fingers feels less like more than enough and more like comfortable, could fit more if he wanted. He doesn't. He rinses his fingers off in the sink before picking up the toy, turning it in his hands nervously, and reaching back to line it up. The first push is cold. He gasps, clamping his lips shut to keep from groaning. He feels burning, heart beating a fire through him. He clenches down against the sharp chill of the toy, even though it's heating up quickly. It takes another push just to get the tip of it inside, his breath coming in low whines now.

Working the plug in takes longer than he expected. Maybe it's because Jongin isn't here to do it for him. He pushes back against the toy, his body protesting even after three fingers, but Yixing persists. He breathes deeply through his nose, consciously relaxing his entire body, and with one last push against the base, he finally gets it fully seated inside. Slowly, carefully, he steadies himself with a grip on the sink, and he straightens up to full standing height.

He can _feel_ it inside of him. Shifting his hips around experimentally, he can feel it. He reaches back and presses against the base, wriggling it a little, and the sensation makes him weak at the knees. It takes a moment to catch his breath, and he dreads sitting down on it. He pulls his briefs up before he can do anything stupid, and he tucks himself to the side, hoping that the bulge won't be so obvious beneath the natural folds of his jeans.

Jongin smiles at him when he finally gets back up to his seat. He hands the backpack back, letting Jongin stow it away before sliding past him to get to his seat. Jongin reaches up to press a hand against him, acting like he's aiding his balance, but really, his palm finds the base of the toy and pushes, startling a moan from the depths of Yixing's chest. Without looking around to see if anybody heard him, he lowers himself gently into his seat and makes a good show of diligently fastening his seatbelt.

"You got it in," Jongin whispers while Yixing's trembling fingers try to fit the buckle together. He nods, biting his lip and looking up at Jongin beneath his lashes. "Good. You're so good for me," Jongin says with a glowing smile, his fingers stroking Yixing's thigh along the inseam. Yixing opens his thighs wider.

"I don't know if I'll make it," he admits quietly, wanting to make Jongin proud but also finding himself at his body's mercy, need already fogging his head. Humiliation colors the corners of his arousal, excitement that Jongin has him like this in public. That Jongin is doing something to him that nobody else can see, even when he's sitting right here. Jongin just tightens his grip around Yixing's thigh.

"You're doing so well already." Yixing flushes, nodding distractedly, and Jongin promises to take his mind off of it.

Jongin puts a movie on for them, something Japanese with subtitles, and Yixing tries desperately to focus. Jongin is holding his hand again, and Yixing knows it's only because if he weren't, he'd be squirming around, addicted to and tortured by the feeling of the plug inside of him. He checks the time on his phone, and there's still more than seven hours left on their flight. Jongin looks over at him with a meaningful gaze, but Yixing shakes his head. Still, Jongin murmurs,

"If you need to take it out, just say your safe word."

Yixing nods obediently, but stays quiet. It's hard, but Jongin never gives Yixing more than he can take. This is a challenge. Jongin has challenged him, and Yixing is nothing if not steadfast in his endeavors. He knows that it will be difficult—it already is—but his doubt has passed. Yixing knows that if he goes through with this, if he can go the whole flight and the ride back to the dorms like this, Jongin will take care of him. Jongin never pushes his limits without rewarding him after.

That being said, the movie doesn't help much. It feels as though Yixing is counting each individual second, just barely withstanding the novelty of the sensations flooding him like breaking waves. He focuses more on his body than he does the screen, his eyes glazed and distant. Jongin notices and pulls on his knee, shifting him forward so that he sits more on his tailbone. It's a tighter fit, his body squeezing down around the plug in this position, but there's less pressure on it now that his weight is off the base. He sends Jongin a smile as thanks, and Jongin nods.

Like this, the acute ache of pleasure fades into a dull resonance, no more than a state of being. The feeling of fullness fades into the background, just like breathing. It's not gone, but it's not impossible to relax now. He does, even though his erection still presses resolutely against the confines of his clothing. He tugs at the folds around his crotch obsessively until Jongin pulls out his phone and makes him play a game just to keep his hands busy.

He loses interest in it as soon as Jongin falls asleep. Yixing knows that he won't be able to do the same, so he just watches, pleased by the peacefulness he sees there. He doesn't know how long they sit like this, Jongin asleep and leaning slowly more and more against Yixing, and Yixing watching raptly, eyes slatted almost shut so that onlookers might mistake them as both sleeping; but when he comes back to the world around him, there are only four hours left to landing, and Yixing pulls up the phone game again. Whenever he gets bored with it, he stops to take a few pictures of himself with Jongin sleeping against him.

Jongin wakes and takes his phone back when they are twenty minutes from landing. Yixing thinks that he dozed at one point, and he's impressed that he was able to. Jongin smiles when he mentions it, looking pleased. Yixing wishes he could sleep more, but the twenty minutes to landing pass as though time is trying to make up for dragging its feet up to now. They sit in the gate for only a handful of minutes before they are ready to deplane, and from there it's almost an hour of a drive back to the dorms.

Yixing is trembling by the time they arrive. It's not anticipation this time. Jongin had him sitting forward, upright, his weight bearing down onto the toy, pushing it deeper. As if that weren't enough, he'd spent the whole drive tickling Yixing to keep him squirming, to keep him moving, to keep him feeling the toy inside him, sometimes pressing hard enough into his prostate to have him breathless and wet in his briefs.

He's worried that Jongin will draw tonight out, taking advantage of their late start tomorrow. When they get inside, he realizes that he shouldn't have worried at all. Jongin always takes care of him. He wastes no time in herding Yixing towards his room, locking the door while Yixing starts to shed his clothes. Jongin crosses the short distance between them in long strides and picks up undressing Yixing where he left off.

"I'd like to tie your hands tonight," Jongin says while Yixing works on the fastenings of his jeans. He trails his fingers up Yixing's neck, along his jaw, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. Yixing sucks in a breath, nodding his assent, and Jongin asks him, "Is there anything you want?"

Yixing pauses to think, and in this time, Jongin crouches down to start easing his pants off one leg at a time. He pushes a hand flat against Yixing's chest to lower him down to the mattress. Yixing lifts his hips to allow Jongin to pull his briefs off, and he says quietly, "The blindfold?"

Jongin glances up, his face flat until Yixing rises up just enough to look down at him, and he smiles. "Okay." From beyond the door, out into the hallway and deeper into the rest of the dorm, the other members' voices drift to them, muddy reminders of their proximity. "Only if you can be quiet."

Yixing nods, pulling himself all the way up onto the mattress now that he's undressed. Jongin shuffles down onto his knees to dig beneath the bed, coming back out with a large shoebox. Yixing peers over the side of the mattress to watch him open it—inside: candles, gags, feathers, and at the very bottom, where Jongin immediately reaches, the blindfold. He sets it up beside Yixing before digging again, looking for the ropes.

"Try the desk," he offers when Jongin's search comes up empty. He does, replacing the box and turning to rummage through largest drawer before exclaiming wordlessly in triumph. He turns to face Yixing, smile round and proud as he holds out the black length of rope in his hands. Yixing's stomach twists pleasantly at the sight, and he turns onto his stomach eagerly.

A rustle of clothing behind him suggests that Jongin is taking this moment to undress. Yixing settles in to wait patiently, but Jongin only pulls his sweater and his undershirt off, sliding up alongside Yixing with his jeans still on. The rough drag of the denim against his skin has him curling, a little bit closer to Jongin in some places and a little bit further away in others. He braces himself on his palms, but Jongin sits back and pulls them out from under him.

He turns his head so that his cheek catches most of the impact when he collapses down to the mattress. He can feel the flex in his back muscles against his forearms where Jongin has stacked them, holding them there while he counts out lengths on the rope for the first knot. Yixing turns his head to watch as best he can, but Jongin turns him away with two fingers on his jaw. He closes his eyes and settles into the bedding, letting out a content sigh when he feels the rough texture of the rope stretched out over the thin skin of his wrists.

The first graze of it tightens into a burn when Jongin starts to pull it taut, instructing Yixing to tap when it's tight enough. He lets Jongin ease his way to just the wrong side of snug, Jongin pausing every few seconds to make sure that Yixing wants him to keep going. It's tight enough that Yixing couldn't pull out if he wanted to, but he can still feel blood pulsing into his fingers.

Once Yixing decides the degree of restriction, Jongin quickly finishes the finer aspects of the bondage and finishes by securing it around his torso. Yixing has to lift himself up off the mattress for Jongin to reach, and Jongin takes this opportunity to play with the base of the plug. Yixing almost bucks him off, biting down onto the comforter to keep from crying out. Jongin pets his side lovingly, a praise for his silence.

"Do you still want the blindfold?"

Jongin doesn't want an immediate answer, Yixing knows this well enough. He wants Yixing to test his restrictions, feel out the moment he's in, and decide whether or not he can take any more. So he does. He pulls against the rope, testing the feel of it. Reflecting on his vulnerability. In the end, he nods, and Jongin pulls his head up by the hair. Yixing gasps as his neck is hyperextended, throat tense and narrow, breath coming loud and laboriously. Jongin ties the blindfold securely so that all of the evening light from the window is eclipsed before letting him drop his head. When he does, Jongin pulls him up by the hips, pushing his knees up under him.

"You've been good today," Jongin murmurs, his voice silky, rumbling. His fingers caress the insides of Yixing's thighs all the way up to the crease of his hips, thumbs stroking, dancing away from his straining cock. Yixing whimpers. Jongin moves on to paw at his ass, squeezing, jostling the toy in him. "You kept it in all afternoon long." He runs his fingers across the base, striking a flutter of nerves loose in Yixing's gut as he waits for anything—for Jongin to push the toy deeper, to pull it out, to do anything except skim across it in favor of laying a solid slap against his thigh.

Yixing gasps, jumping, mostly managing to stay in position. Jongin hums in approval, leaning forward to kiss his stinging skin. "Even when I teased you, you kept it in," he says, dragging his lips up to press another kiss right into the apple of Yixing's buttock. He runs his hands up, across the tension of Yixing's lower back, dragging his fingers heavily on the way back down to work some of strain out. Yixing swallows thickly, addicted to this—the overwhelming awareness of Jongin's touch when he is deprived of the ability to be aware of anything else. Jongin's touch is always with him; now, it surrounds him.

"I'm going to take the plug out," Jongin says, his voice cutting through the fog in Yixing's mind. Yixing nods, spreading his knees to give Jongin easier access. He can feel Jongin's fingers curling around the base, gentle so as not to hurt Yixing while he does. He pulls on it, but Yixing's body holds tight to it. He twists it and wrings a soft moan from the depths of Yixing's throat. Yixing wiggles his hips to help loosen it, and Jongin is finally able to ease the plug part of the way out.

Yixing doesn't expect him to push it back in, but he does, fucking into Yixing with it so slow and smooth that Yixing's breath catches in his throat. He chokes out a cry, his hands tightening into fists. Jongin pulls it out again, and this time, Yixing anticipates being screwed with it. It's gentler this time, easier to relax into the sensation. The third time Jongin pulls it out, he works until it's out all the way and Yixing's hole is left groping for nothing, emptiness leaving him feeling hollow and uncomfortable.

Jongin doesn't leave him like this. As soon as he sets the toy aside (on the desk—the mattress shifts as he moves his weight around, and the toy thunks metallically against the surface), he's back on Yixing with two fingers pressing immediately in to fill him back up. Yixing hisses, pushing back against him even though the fit is much tighter than the toy was.

"Jesus, Xing, still so tight for me," Jongin groans, actually groans, his voice dropping low as he speaks. Yixing bites his lip and nods, even though he isn't sure that Jongin is looking at him. The fingers in him move, drawing away, and Yixing listens to the plastic crack of a bottle of lube being opened. A moment later, Jongin's fingers are back, cold but slick. They slide in easier, and Yixing breathes a deep, contented breath. "That's good," Jongin says, "relax for me."

He does. It's so easy like this, Jongin completely surrounding him, with his gentle words and kind praise and his free hand rubbing up and down Yixing's flank reassuringly. He pushes a third finger in too early, letting Yixing indulge in the burn of the stretch. He stops breathing for a moment, pushing his hips back onto Jongin's hand, and Jongin moans into the silence. Yixing does it again, fucking himself back onto Jongin's hand, and Jongin's grip on his hip tightens almost painfully. "Yixing, you're so amazing," he growls, leaning forward to kiss a trail up Yixing's spine.

He plants a hand beside Yixing's head for balance, the warmth of his body radiating to completely envelope Yixing while he continues to roll his hips back onto Jongin's fingers. Jongin's kisses get clumsier the further up he gets; open mouth dragging, teeth scraping, finally latching on at Yixing's shoulders to bite into him. Yixing's entire body jerks, the pain grounding him. As Jongin lets go, so does he, letting the endorphins wash through and carry him off. "Jongin," he whimpers, the need to come rising as a demanding presence in his mind.

"Yeah, Xing?"

"Please," and Yixing punctuates his need by pushing his hips back, harder now. Sometimes, Jongin makes Yixing articulate exactly what he wants. He doesn't give it to him until Yixing has practically spelled it out. He worries for the shortest of moments that tonight will be like that, but he worries in vain. Jongin knows him. Jongin knows what he needs. As Jongin pulls away to shuck his jeans, Yixing relaxes completely. Jongin will take care of him.

"Roll onto your back for me," Jongin says as he opens the lube again. Yixing does, clumsily, listening intently to the tear of a condom wrapper, the sound of Jongin stroking himself, the slickness of it sending a twitch of arousal through him. He opens his legs wide, inviting, and Jongin slides between them like a lover. He smooths his hands over Yixing's thighs, holding him open. If Yixing had any leverage, he would lean forward for a kiss. He doesn't, though, so he licks his lips and hopes that Jongin sees him.

Warm breath washing over his mouth tells him that he did. Jongin kisses him slowly, mildly, his tongue stroking deep against the roof of Yixing's mouth. It's a calming kiss, like curling under the covers on cold mornings. Jongin runs his hands up and down Yixing's thighs again before taking a hold of them and pushing them up, crowding his diaphragm. Yixing gasps, opening his mouth wider for Jongin to kiss him more sincerely. Yixing knows what's coming, Jongin driving deep into him with one thrust, and Yixing crows into the kiss.

Jongin pulls back and pushes his fingers into Yixing's mouth, rolling his hips deep to get situated. Yixing sucks on them intently, eyes clamped shut beneath the blindfold. "Remember," Jongin starts, his voice sounding strained, "you have to be quiet." Yixing responds by clamping his muscles down around Jongin's cock, and Jongin smacks him on his thigh again. "Be good," he says, steadier, sterner.

When he pulls out, Yixing feels the drag of it through his entire body, save for his arms, which are falling asleep. He curls his toes, trying very hard not to bite Jongin's fingers when he slides all the way back in, setting into an even pace. Jongin is good like this. He doesn't throw Yixing curveballs when he's blindfolded; it's what Yixing likes best. That he can trust Jongin so completely as to give up his vision and still put himself wholly, without hesitation or doubt, into Jongin's hands.

Jongin doesn't need to throw curveballs to get under Yixing's skin. He knows exactly how to thrust into him, what angles make Yixing squirm, how stroking his wet fingers lightly down the center of Yixing's stomach has him curling his entire body inwards with pleasure. He knows that ghosting his hand over Yixing's throat will have him choking over his breath, his hole fluttering excitedly around Jongin's cock. He keeps his hands on him at all times, never leaving him so that Yixing knows exactly where he's going to touch him next. Yixing loves it, the anticipation, the chaotic, pulsing pleasure in his body concentrating down into the singular need to come.

"Jongin," he pleads, driving himself back down into Jongin's thrusts. "Please, so close," he manages, and Jongin grunts in acknowledgement. He hooks one hand around Yixing's thigh, holding it up even higher, opening him up to even deeper, harder thrusts. His other hand strokes slowly down his chest, over the hard planes of his abdomen, bunched tight in desperation. Yixing bucks up against him, trying to find friction, but Jongin holds out. Yixing can feel his hand slowly working lower, so close, _so_ close. Yixing whines, feeling close to tears behind his blindfold.

He gasps when Jongin finally takes him into his hand, his grip strong and steady, working with the force of his thrusts. Yixing can't breathe, his head is swimming, his entire body constricts into one fine point of need, crashing down the next moment in blissful completion. He sags back against the mattress as he comes, hips twitching into Jongin's grip as he finishes, and the touch is becoming painfully sensitive.

He could tell Jongin to stop, but he almost loves this, the feel of too much that only Jongin gives him. It doesn't last very long anyways, Jongin huffing under his panting breaths, "Fuck, Xing, gonna—," and bucking hard into Yixing's body until he stiffens, driving deep, and settling there. Yixing can feel Jongin's pulse inside of him, the strangest, most satisfying sensation, and he wishes that his arms were free just so he could hold Jongin close in this moment.

Jongin doesn't linger. He pulls out tenderly and immediately rolls Yixing over, making quick work of his knots. He pulls Yixing upright and supports his weight while he rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms out uselessly as the blood starts to rush back in. "I'm going to take the blindfold off now," he says, his voice raspy and low. Yixing nods, lifting his head a little so that Jongin has an easier reach.

The light from the window has faded, only moonlight coming in through now, and Yixing could see everything clearly if there weren't spots dancing in front of his eyes. He blinks a couple times, realizing that he's looking up at Jongin's gentle smile. When Jongin sees his focus returning, he smiles wider, more deliberately, and says, "Stay here. I'm going to get something to clean you off with." Yixing nods mutely, and Jongin stands, first discarding his condom and pulling on shorts before leaving the room

Yixing rolls onto his back and shakes his hands out to wake them up. He drops them down into his lap, his fingers finding imprints of the rope in his thighs where they were pressed into his chest. He closes his eyes and thinks that he could cry for no reason. Sometimes he feels this way after a scene, every bit of him caving, like a crumbling dam. Jongin returns quickly, rubbing him down with a warm, wet cloth, and Yixing reaches for him desperately.

Jongin drops the cloth onto the ground beside the bed and immediately climbs into Yixing's arms, holding him close. Yixing can feel a few hot tears escaping even when he clenches his eyes shut, and with his face pressed into Jongin's neck, he knows that Jongin can feel them. But Jongin doesn't shush him. He doesn't demand to know what's wrong. He just holds Yixing close, and if he pulls away for a moment, it's just to clean his face of tear tracks.

"You were so good tonight," he murmurs in the darkness. "So beautiful. You're such an amazing person, Yixing. I can't believe how lucky I am that you let me have you like this." His calm voice lets something loose in Yixing, and those first few tears make way for gasping, rolling sobs, his entire body releasing everything at once, and Yixing loves it. It feels so good to let go, to know that he's in Jongin's arms, that Jongin will always take care of him when he needs it. "You have so much inside of you," he says, "let it out." He does.

When Yixing has cried himself out, wrung himself dry and collapsed, exhausted and relaxed, into Jongin's chest, Jongin tucks him under the covers and tells him to wait there. "I'm going make some tea."

Yixing dozes in the silence that follows. Distantly, if he listens hard enough, he can hear the clanging of a pan, the running of water. But he doesn't focus on it. His eyes slide shut, still burning and flushed, and his breathing settles until he just barely dangles from consciousness. Jongin rouses him when he comes back with a full mug of tea, blowing on it for him before sitting him up and pressing it to his lips.

It warms him inside. His eyes flutter open and he looks up at Jongin, whose mouth is straight but his eyes are alive and tender. He's wearing a shirt now—must have put it on before going to the kitchen. Yixing reaches out, pulling him close by the collar and planting a kiss on his lips. Jongin nuzzles closer, nosing his way around Yixing's cheek. "How do you feel?"

Yixing knows that Jongin doesn't want an immediate answer. He wants Yixing to really dig into himself, understand what he's feeling and why he's feeling it, so that next time can be better. But Yixing is tired and his entire body is sated, humming complacently, so immediately, he says, "Complete."


End file.
